Heavy In Your Arms
by Arsenic Kisses
Summary: Arthur and Eames are happily married and living in England. But, what happens when a monster begins to invade Arthur's dreams and then, his body?
1. It Started With a Dream

So, my first Inception story. Here's hoping that it turns out alright. I apologize in advance for the brevity of this first chapter. They do get longer.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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Arthur peered around the corner, unsure of how to deal with what awaited him. It was big, gruesome, and hard to kill. He wasn't armed; he had not foreseen this happenstance. This was a showdown and he was defenseless. Logic told him that this was his dream, he was in control. But the pit of his stomach screwed up. He felt himself begin to wretch. Then, blood tried to jettison through the fingers that desperately covered his mouth. He didn't want to be heard. This wouldn't be the day he died in his dreams. He would not lose to this monster inside of him.

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In their flat, Eames and Arthur sat on the couch watching a bit of evening telly. They had been married for over half a year and as they flipped through the channels, Eames watched Arthur's hand on the changer, admiring the ring. Eames thought about how happy he'd been since Arthur had agreed to move to England and be his husband. Arthur was a straight-laced stick in the mud, but Eames found him entirely irresistible. He never saw himself as gay, no. He loved women. It was just Arthur. If anything, he was Arthursexual.

"There's nothing good on t.v." Arthur huffed, looking to Eames for any positive feedback to this observation. Yet, all he got was that look. The same look Eames always got when he was thinking too much about how pleased he was. Arthur sighed with a smile.

" Nothing on telly, mhm? Well, I suppose we'll just have to entertain ourselves otherwise."

"Must you always be so base and sexually charged when you talk?" he asked of Eames, who seemed far too enthrall with the notion of Arthur undressed to care. Arthur shook his head in good humor, but went back to the television. He stared hard at the crawler on the bottom of the screen, watching it tick by with news that could not distract him. He had been feeling ill all day, unsure if he should have made something lighter for dinner or not. The nausea was overwhelming him now.

"- 'right, darling?"

"What?" he asked, his breath a touch short. Eames playful smile crept back into his natural pout gently when he realized that Arthur looked to be doing poorly.

"Are you alright, darling? You're looking a bit off colour." Arthur nodded, an undignified burp rising out of his throat lazily. It left a sour taste on his tongue, making the woozy feeling even worse. Eames place a hand on the small of his husband's back, trying to keep him grounded. He turned the t.v. down with the opposite hand and focused all of his attentions to Arthur.

"I think- I think I might need to throw up." Said the point man at last, moving to his feet quicker than a rabbit in the buck-shot splattered snow. He wretched and emptied his stomach over the toilet, clutching the side vigorously. Eames held back a stubborn strand of hair that did not want to stay quaffed and turned his head for the duration of the sickly episode. Once he had assured himself that his stomach was completely void all the chicken marsala he had made, Arthur leaned back on the wall and stared up a the ceiling.

"Uuunh" he moaned, noting that he sounded quite undignified. Eames pluck a bit of toilet paper from the roll and offered it to Arthur, who took it and pressed it to his mouth.

"Feel better, darling?"

"Yeah," he lied, a hand to his stomach. He hadn't felt this sick in quite some time and he wondered what kind of bug he'd caught to make him vomit. Arthur tried to avoid the activity as much as humanly possible. Eames, ever the doting husband, pressed a hand to Arthur's cheek.

"Get to bed, hmm? I'll clean up a bit then meet you there." He did as he was told, got into bed and shut his eyes.

Forty-five minutes later, Eames was lying next to him.

10 after that, Eames was snoring lightly.

Every 25 minutes after _that_, Arthur would get up, lean over the toilet, wretch a little, then go back to bed. By 5 a.m., He'd given up returning to the security of his bed and took to sleeping propped up against the wall in the bathroom. No point, he thought, in getting up and down anymore. It was almost morning and he'd had enough.

When Eames got up at 7:30 to take an early shower, he found his husband lying on the floor asleep looking pale. After the initial shock, he gathered him up in his arms and lay him down in bed.

He'd been hired to do a job that day, but Eames couldn't leave his husband's side. Instead, he did what he could do while Arthur slept. He cleaned house, washed the laundry and made a light lunch. That morphed into a light dinner when Arthur graced the living room around 4 p.m.

"Darling." Eames moved to his side, an arm snaking around his waist to support him. His hair was unkempt from sleep, his eyes half-lidded.

"Eames, I'm-"

"Don't say a word, darling. Sit down on the couch, I'll make some tea."

After tea was stomached, and dinner picked at, it started up again. And Arthur repeated the previous night's cycle.

The next day, Eames forced his husband into the car and down to the hospital. The only words upon arrival, the only words that the nurses heard and upon seeing Arthur's face understood, were:

"Fix him._ Now._"

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More to come

~Arsenic


	2. You're Waiting for an Answer

Chapter 2 is up without much ado-enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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Arthur watched Eames pace back and forth in front of him, trying to make it look like a casual saunter rather than a nervous pace.

"You're going to hurt yourself, sit down." Eames, who had been toying with his lower lip, glanced up at his husband. He looked so small, sitting in that hospital bed. The mid-morning light hit his skin and brought it some colour, but he still looked so sick.

"Paper is a good look for you, darling." Eames teased, still playing with his lip. Arthur smiled and shook his head. His poor husband, so worried over him. Most likely, Arthur thought, it was a horrible stomach bug. Antibiotics, bed rest and fluids, that's all it would take. Eames didn't look as certain and that was what worried him.

"I try to look good, no matter the situation. Come on, Eames, please sit." Eames sat, his hand now done fumbling about his face. The doctor had come and gone an hour and a half ago and Eames was four seconds away from jumping up again and demanding results from the nearest nurse.

" I'm- I'm going to go get a coffee. Do you need anything?"

"No, Eames. Just get out for a bit and relax. Everything will be fine." He did as he was told, and sauntered out into the waiting area. Once at the coffee machine, he inserted his change and received the beverage at a near-lethal temperature into a poorly insulated cup. Whilst shaking a sugar packet, a voice addressed him.

"Mr. Eames? May I speak to you for a moment?" Eames looked at the doctor, then his husband's room. Everything would be fine. Arthur was napping, it seemed.

Everything would be fine.

The doctor gestured to a chair then sat in the one opposite. He looked rather serious, but then again, what doctor didn't? Medical types were always a bit stodgy. Eames blew on his coffee, trying to get it cooler as he juggled it gently between his hands.

" So, what's the prognosis?" the doctor, a younger looking man, took off his glasses and sighed. Sighing was never good and almost every doctor did it.

" We've run a few tests and did an MRI. It turns out that your husband has stomach cancer." Eames felt as if he'd been dunked forcibly into a tank of cold water and left to drown. His breath was caught in his chest. He found it best to set his scalding coffee to the side on the floor before he dropped it.

" I-I don't understand."

"It's realitvely small. We've caught it early. Can't be more than a Stage 1 or 2. With the right treatment plan, we could-"

"Stop!" The doctor looked shocked, but it was a quick transition into quiet understanding for him. Were doctor's always this blunt? Eames got up and paced back and forth.

" Do you need a moment? I can come back-"

"No, no- I just-" He fussed with his lip again, then ran his hand through his hair, " I want to tell him."

"Of course. Take all the time you need. I'll come 'round again in an hour or so to discuss treatment." Eames nodded as the man left, eyes locked on his sleeping husband. This was- was there a single word to use for this situation? For once, Eames had no idea what to do. He looked to his coffee, it's contents a little more manageable now. He decided to finish his coffee before going in there. He couldn't face him yet.

Not just yet.

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Arthur knew this place. He'd created it during the first Saito job. A large Japanese palace; very elegant. He'd put quite a lot of effort into it and was surprised it was not still destroyed. He must have recreated it, since some of the detail had changed, tailored to more of his taste than Saito's. He ascended the staircase, heading towards the dining hall.

It felt quiet but not peaceful. He didn't like this feeling. Arthur created a hidden but convenient panel that slid back in the hallway; a place for a good quality hand gun. Remembering everything he'd even learned, he kept going up the stairs. On the landing before the dining hall, there it was. It was bigger now, that monster from the other night. It seemed to ignore him, more consumed with dragging its heavy, talon adorned feet across the lacquered bamboo floorboards. It seemed to ooze black, vicious matter and Arthur tried not to breathe too loudly. He watched it move and growl, drip and drag.

He lifted his pistol, training it on the large creature. He watched it lick itself as he cocked back the hammer. Suddenly the creature rounded, his glowing eyes white as they bore into him. It opened its feline jaws and snapped them shut in an intimidation tactic. Arthur's hand was steady but he found no will to pull the trigger.

_"Darling!"_

The creature moved to get onto its hind legs.

_"Arthur, Darling!_

As it roared , Arthur fired and within the blast, he found himself being shaken awake.

"Arthur." Eames said, touching his husband's cheek, " there is something you should know."

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Chapter 3 will be up soon.

-Arsenic


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